


don't put me in no box

by jemejem



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Bad Communication Skills All Round, Casual Sex, Demisexual Neil Josten, Give Me Neurodivergent Kevin Day Or Give Me Death, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pining, math nerd neil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:21:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemejem/pseuds/jemejem
Summary: Neil's in love with Andrew, has been for a long, long time, but thinks Andrew only wants him for sex. Having a part of Andrew is better than not having him at all, right?
Relationships: Neil Josten & Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 53
Kudos: 915





	don't put me in no box

Neil was fully aware that he was making a terrible decision. He didn’t need the appraising looks or concerned sighs from his closest friends, Kevin and Matt. He didn’t need the mental pat-down from Allison or the pitying grimace from Nicky.

He knew exactly what kind of grave he was digging. He’d picked up the shovel, chosen a plot and was nearly six-feet under.

Andrew would call him melodramatic, but this was one thing that Neil would _never_ tell Andrew, mostly because he was right and Neil didn’t like giving him that satisfaction, but also because it was directly about Andrew himself.

“Neil,” said the man in question, jammed into the corner of Neil’s dormitory room. He was smoking (Neil disabled the smoke-detector) as Neil chewed on the end of a pencil, attempting his coursework. It was overdue by three days.

Neil waved him off, scribbling down another line of working. If there was one thing that worked on Andrew, it was being ignored. Most of the time Neil found this incredibly difficult: he was enraptured by all that Andrew Minyard was. But, right now, he was attempting logarithms that he’d missed a lecture on. Having him so close, with a sleeve-less shirt and mussed hair, was not helping.

Andrew knew this. He acquiesced and lit a second cigarette.

They’d known each other since middle school. When Kevin and Neil had reunited (childhood friends), Neil met Andrew. By proxy that meant Neil met Aaron and Nicky. Through classmates he met Matt, who introduced him to Dan, who introduced him to Allison, who introduced him to Renee, who brought things full-circle when she introduced Neil to Andrew again.

A little mob of trouble makers, they were. Still were, really.

But Andrew got into trouble. Did a juvie term for three years at fourteen, and didn’t come back for another two. No one really knew why, but when he turned up again it was already Neil’s second year of college, and he just slotted back in like nothing happened.

They’d grown close again, of course. This time, however, it was impossible to miss the way Andrew’s fingertips brushed over Neil’s skin when he passed over the lighter, or the hooded glances he sent Neil’s way. It would make Neil’s cheeks burn.

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but they were—fucking, he supposed. If that was the best term for it. There wasn’t anything ideal about it, other than the fact that Neil couldn’t help it. Every time Andrew touched him, he felt like his skeleton was disintegrating and could hardly hold himself upright. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why it was _Andrew,_ either. He just knew his own instincts, and every one of them was telling him to fling his worksheet across the room and let Andrew crawl over him.

The one, tiny voice of reason in the corner whispered: _but you’ve never done casual. You can’t do casual. You’ve been enthralled by Andrew since the very beginning, and having sex with him is only making that glaringly obvious to everyone else. He’s going to figure it out and shut it down. He doesn’t want that._

Neil was rational about everything except himself. So he ignored the voice, and kissed Andrew till his lips were raw and tingling.

The math problem untangled itself after a few seconds of deliberation and he let out a soft grunt. “I’m an idiot.”

Andrew hummed in assent. Neil flipped him off and moved to the next question.

He wanted to ask Andrew why he was here, hanging out with Neil whilst he did homework. If he was just waiting to do what they always did, he would’ve reached out already. He knew Neil would come willingly.

But instead, he was just sitting there, occasionally texting someone, staring into space. Like he wanted to be here. Wanted to spend time with Neil, in Neil’s space, in comfortable quiet. There was music playing softly off Neil’s old phone. A bit of Billy Joel. A lot of M83. It crackled when the bass got too loud: Neil has dropped his phone in water many, _many_ times.

“What’s your favourite number?” Andrew asked, breaking the silence. That was odd. It was usually Neil who did all the talking.

Neil shrugged. “Probably 1. It’s versatile. Or 0. I like the concept of nothingness.”

“Of course you would,” Andrew took another drag.

Neil glanced up, not moving his head. He looked at Andrew from between his eyelashes, nearly squinting. “What’s yours?”

Andrew thought about it for a second. “19.”

Neil was still 19. He’d turn 20 on the 19th of January, just a few months away. Neil didn’t think that was why Andrew liked the number, but the fact that he’d even offered an answer nestled right into Neil’s chest, warm and glowing. Andrew didn’t contemplate trivial things, like favourite numbers or colours, zodiac signs or birthday gifts.

“Right,” Neil said, looking back to his paper. “19. Of course.”

“You’re not going to pester me for a why?”

“You won’t have one,” Neil retorted, lips quirking up involuntarily. “You never do.”

Andrew hummed again. “So you do learn. Shocking.”

The music paused as someone texted him. Andrew peered over and scoffed. “‘Mother Hen’ wants to know if you’ve had lunch.”

Neil rolled his eyes. Matt was his best friend, but a lack of positive parental role models meant he was definitely more of a mother than anything else. “Tell him I finished the salad in his fridge and had some almonds.”

Andrew unlocked his phone, resuming the music. “You’re embarrassing.”

Neil looked up. His neck twinged: he’d been hunched over for too long. “What, because I don’t consume a soda’s worth of sugar with every bite?”

“Because you still can’t look after yourself,” Andrew retorted.

Neil wasn’t sure why, but it stung. Neil had been looking after himself since he was 10 years old. He watched over his shoulder, he wrestled for sports scholarships to keep himself in school, he’d signed all his own paperwork. He’d grown up fast, faster than many kids he knew, and Andrew knew this. In that respect, they were the same.

Andrew must’ve seen the shift in Neil’s posture, because he yanked the book out of Neil’s hands and stood up to put it on Neil’s desk. The pencil went with it.

“I need to finish that,” Neil said as Andrew stood in front of him.

“Now?”

Yeah. “No.”

“Yes or no?”

_Definitely_ yeah. “Yes.”

Andrew had Neil shuffle till his back hit the wall. Then, with about as much grace as Kevin on 17 shots of fireball, threw his leg over Neil’s lap and straddled him.

It was new to Neil. He didn’t hate it. When Andrew directed Neil’s hands to the small of his back, he _really_ didn’t hate it.

“Stop worrying,” he said against Neil’s lips. “You’ve been doing logarithms since 7th grade.”

Neil had exclusively taken advanced math classes his whole schooling career. It was the only academic skill he had. Evisceration of opinions was not, apparently, a redeemable academic discipline.

Andrew was right.

He pretty much always was.

*

“How long are you going to pretend you’re not in love with my brother?”

Neil paused. “How long did you stand there till everyone had scampered off so you could have your dramatic entrance?”

Aaron rolled his eyes.

The two of them were unlikely friends. Aaron had hated Neil for a long while: Neil had wormed his way to Andrew’s side when no one had known how. As his twin (though they were only reunited a few months before Neil had met Andrew) Aaron felt that Neil had been taking up time and attention Andrew should have been spending on him.

Maybe that was deserved. Aaron was also a prick though, so he hadn’t been very good at resolving the situation logically. Neil was an asshole too, so things hadn’t really deescalated till Andrew had shipped himself off to juvie.

They were friends, now, though it consisted mostly of antagonistic jabs and jeers.

“I’m not in love with your brother,” Neil said, unable to look Aaron in the eye.

“You used to be better at lying.” Aaron sat down at the table. Neil was in the library. Hiding, maybe. Andrew never came to the library. “You realise it’s a bad idea, right?”

“What, to love him, or to hook up with him?”

Aaron gave him a flat look. “Both.”

“Yeah,” Neil sighed. “I know.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re miserably pathetic,” Aaron rested his chin in his hand. “You know it took me a year to properly ask Katelyn out? Most of that was me being blind to her reciprocity.”

“Yes,” Neil drawled. “We were all there. What’s your point, dickhead?”

“Be more blunt,” Aaron said. “You might be surprised at what it can achieve.”

“Fuck off, please,” Neil said, letting his saccharine smile do all the mocking. “Let’s never have this conversation again.”

“At least it wasn’t the shovel-talk,” Aaron snorted. “I think Andrew could use an emotional whack over the head, so: do as you please.”

“Sure,” Neil mumbled as Aaron wandered off. “Sounds fantastic.”

*

There was a small forest behind campus, but it was little-known that the woods hid something more. An old dirt track ran through it, an abandoned road worn down with time. Neil had stumbled across it within a few weeks of living on campus. There was a corrugated tin shack for firewood and a circle of stones marking out a fire pit. The pond looked less than inviting, but there was still a rope swing by its shore. All it’d take was a very drinks and jeers, and Neil was sure that someone would fling themselves in.

  
Since Neil had found it, they’d commandeered it for themselves. A barrel barbecue had been assembled under the tin shack, alongside the wood and Renee’s hatchet that they used to chop it. Allison had invested in solar-powered fairy lights that barely worked but still looked nice. Nicky had even worked on cleaning the pond a bit, getting rid of the soggy leaves and sticks and algae.

It was a nice place. Neil was glad he found it.

Saturday night arrived without warning and he found himself being looped into another trip to the woods, stuck between Matt and Allison’s elbows and letting their drunken rambling lull him into a false sense of security.

See, today hadn’t started as a good day for Neil. He’d woken up clammy and lost, and hadn’t been able to shake it all day. The others tried to distract him, reassure him: they knew he got like this sometimes. They didn’t fault him for it. Neil didn’t know what he’d done to deserve his friends. Especially when he was like this.

Andrew was a few paces in front of Neil, bracketed by Kevin and Rene. The three of them were walking closer together than Neil thought Andrew preferred to tolerate, till he noticed Andrew’s hands moving. He was talking to them, gesturing. Something strange tugged at Neil’s heart.

Then he glanced over his shoulder, like he wanted to look at Neil but couldn’t risk it. That same sensation tugged a little harder.

There was already a fire going, thanks to Nicky and Erik and Dan. It’d been their turn to arrive early and start things up. Neil managed to pull himself free of Matt and Allison, but only because Matt went over to Dan to hug her and Allison wanted to talk to Renee. Before she left, she leaned into Neil’s ear and whispered “I bet you and your boy could scare away the bears.” Neil shoved her: she stumbled away, laughing. Neil wasn’t going to have sex with Andrew in the woods. Besides, there weren’t any bears behind Palmetto. Probably.

And Andrew wasn’t _his boy._ He wasn’t anyone’s boy. He wasn’t even a boy.

Neil stopped his gaze from drifting over to his tuft of blonde hair and fire-lit hazel eyes, instead making sure that Matt wasn’t snacking on the marshmallows. If there weren’t enough by smores-time, Andrew would fling the man into the pond, height difference be damned.

He kept the fire between him and Andrew, leaving as much distance as subtlety would allow. Ever since Aaron’s obtrusive speculations, Neil was too aware of his feelings. Something had changed: it was getting harder and harder to keep it bottled up.

But then Andrew kept holding his gaze when Neil accidentally caught it, and Matt had cracked him a beer to loosen his shoulders, and he felt warm and safe.

So when Andrew got up for a cigarette, he followed.

The others were too drunk to notice or care, but for Renee, who only smiled and let Allison’s head droop to her shoulder. Neil just grit his teeth and turned away, firelight at his back.

He found Andrew sitting on a tree stump, cigarette between his lips. Neil stood a little further away than he meant too, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“We are _not_ having sex in the woods,” he said, because Allison’s snicker was still on replay in the back of his brain.

Andrew shrugged. “We’re not having sex tonight at all. You’re having a bad day.”

Neil slumped, leaning against the nearest tree. His legs decided to give out and he slid to the floor, all scrunched up and small. “It’s that obvious, is it?”

Andrew just gave him a look before letting smoke cloud in the air above him. 

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” Neil muttered, scrubbing his eye with the heel of his palm. “I just—woke up wrong. I don’t know why.”

“It happens, sometimes.”

Neil curled his arms around his shins, head falling to his knees. “It sucks.”

A stick snapped under the weight of Andrew’s boot. When Neil looked up, Andrew was crouching in front of him. Two fingers came to tilt up Neil’s chin.

“It’ll be better tomorrow,” Andrew said. “Go to bed early and get up for a jog in the morning. Clear your mind and start anew.”

“Yeah,” Neil mumbles, not trusting his voice not to tremble. Andrew knew his routine. He knew what Neil needed and when. He kept Neil on his periphery, but it was enough for him to learn how to help. “Sure.”

The fingers under his chin trailed around to cup the back of his neck. The weight of his hand was warm and steadying. Neil let out the exhale that he’d been holding in all day.

“It will be better tomorrow,” Andrew repeated. “Yes?”

_I trust you,_ Neil wanted to say.

But it was all he could do to just nod.

*

The dining hall was a splash of every colour, streamers strung high and low. The dormitory had sanctioned it as a ‘Diversity Night’, but it was really just a collection of queer students, pizza, soda and a whole playlist of Lady Gaga. Nicky and Renee had been quite involved in the event’s organisation, which meant most of Neil’s friends were roped into set-up.

Neil, whose classes ran late, promised he’d stick around to clear the night’s festivities away once everyone had upped and left. He didn’t really feel like hanging around a bunch of students he doesn’t know, especially in that context. He wasn’t available but no one seemed to understand that. Even when he insisted that he was on the ace spectrum. Even now, with Andrew’s hickeys pressed into his shoulder.

Not that Andrew really knew. Neil thought it’d be a bit hard for him to conflate the two: the man he’s having sex with doesn’t really want to have sex unless it’s under specific conditions. Emotional conditions. Something Andrew doesn’t want.

So Neil didn’t go to the event, but he did turn up as the last stragglers were stumbling out, slipping in through the door.

Nicky was already on a step stool, pulling down streamers. “Neil! You’re here. You missed all the fun!”

Kevin was still there, pulling tables back to where they belonged. Renee was tidying away leftovers and collating trash. There were a few others that Neil didn’t recognise, unstacking chairs and sweeping away crumbs.

And of course, Andrew was there. Standing at the edge of the room with his arms crossed as he looked at his phone. Bored and unhelpful. Neil shoved down the urge to smile, _and_ the urge to catch his attention.

When Kevin was finished with the tables he yanked Neil by the elbow into the kitchens, filling a sink with soapy water as Neil tipped out popcorn kernels and crisp crumbs from large bowls. They washed dishes in companionable silence, the occasional friendly face popping in to pass over another cup or platter.

“Your classes usually don’t run this late,” Kevin said, quiet. “Why didn’t you come? Everyone else was here.”

Neil put down the drying rag. “I didn’t feel like it, Kevin. It’s not my scene.”

Kevin shrugged. “I just think you might’ve enjoyed it. Even Andrew came along.”

“Uh huh,” Neil muttered, stacking another bowl on the shelf.

“Is it the gate-keeping? We did have ace flags this time. Aro flags, too.”

Neil didn’t feel like talking about this, not now. “I guess so. I was also busy, and tired.”

“But you’re here now,” Kevin pointed out, always using obvious facts against Neil’s liar-wired brain. He was also strangely attuned to Neil’s thoughts. Probably a result of growing up together. “You didn’t feel like hanging around Andrew.”

Neil stopped what he was doing and shut his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Does he even know you’re asexual?”

“I’m not,” Neil managed, staring at his hands.

“Demi, then.” Kevin said, because he was a sucker for labels sometimes. Neil didn’t fault him for it: he was always like that. “He doesn’t know, does he? Because that means it’s something more. At least for you.”

Neil thought he heard footsteps outside the kitchen door but all the dishes had been delivered and no one wanted to accidentally get roped into dish duty. He must have been hearing things.

“Thank you, Kevin,” he managed, wishing he’d never offered to help clean. “Thank you for making me aware of my own situation. It’s incredibly helpful.”

Kevin rolled his eyes but stayed quiet anyway.

*

The next afternoon there was a text on his nearly dead phone: an offer. To go for a drive, up to Columbia. Did Neil need anything?

He didn’t really want to go, not with Kevin’s freshly minted accusations still spinning around his head, but he was desperate for new sneakers and Columbia was his only option. He confirmed with a quick _sure_ and tugged on a grey hoodie, yanking a beanie down over his hair.

Andrew had a nice car. Neil was pretty sure it was nice. He didn’t know much about cars. All he did know was that he’d come back, accepted his portion of Tilda Minyard’s life insurance from when she’d offed herself whilst he was in juvie, and got himself whatever ate through the budget fastest.

Neil buckled himself into the passenger seat without so much as a hello and Andrew peeled the car away from the curb, setting off for the nearest city.

Neil put on some music. Andrew never complained about Neil’s choices, but today he skipped through a couple until it landed on a decent queue of Lord Huron. He was in that kind of mood.

“So,” Andrew said, once the car filtered onto the interstate. “You weren’t around for last night’s fiasco.”

“Classes,” Neil muttered.

“You didn’t miss much.” He leaned his head from side to side, both hands still on the wheel. “When did you figure yourself out? Not when we were younger, I assume.”

This was what Neil was afraid of. That the perfect opportunity would present itself, and Neil would squirrel away from it and never be gifted a moment like that again. Andrew made Neil feel like he could stand against a storm, but this felt odd and sludge-like to wade through.

“I’m still figuring it out,” he said, voice hushed.

“What does that entail?”

Neil just looked at him. “What are you really asking, Andrew?”

Andrew, with his canines worrying at his bottom lip, actually seemed mildly perturbed. “Forget it.”

Huh. Neil thought he was the liar here.

They arrived at one of Columbia’s many malls in good time. Andrew trailed along, seemingly listless as Neil went straight for the sports’ section and found his favourite pair. The shorter man eyed them with distaste.

Neil fluttered his eyelashes. “What, don’t like neon orange?”

“You’re atrocious,” Andrew retorted. “You should wear smaller running shorts.” Neil grinned.

He plucked a pair off the rack: they were women’s, and tiny. “Like these?”

Andrew peered at the tag, arched an eyebrow and shrugged as he snatched them from Neil’s grasp and tucked them under his arm. The tips of his ears were red.

Andrew’s next stop was the pharmacy. Neil was drawn in by rows of box dyes, wondering if Renee would be willing to do something with his own untameable curls. It could be an interesting venture. He wondered what Andrew would think.

He found Andrew not long after, standing in a nondescript isle with his hips angled as he held two items in his hands.

When Neil saw what they were, he almost didn’t stifle his gasp. In Andrew’s left palm was lube: in his right were condoms.

Andrew had told him, once, of a foster father. A man who had ripped Andrew’s hope right out of his grasp. He’d been seven. Neil knew more than he ought to about terrible fathers. Together they had sat in silence, eating peanut butter from the jar (on Oreos for Andrew: on celery sticks for Neil). Neil had never forgotten that afternoon. Not when Andrew left and not when he returned. He turned the memory over in his mind many a time after the first time Andrew leant in and slipped his hand under the elastic of Neil’s sweatpants.

By Andrew’s hooded look, he was thinking about the same thing.

Neil said “Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He swallowed. “Yeah. Okay.”

*

They didn’t head straight home. Andrew took him on a detour around the edge of the city, cruising through unassuming suburbs. Neil didn’t ask why: he felt like the air between them was a mix between volatile, electric and warm. It was baffling him.

When the car rolled to a stop, Andrew leaned back in his chair and looked to the house that they’d paused in front of.

It was a white-picket masterpiece. Every facet of it was unassuming and so ridiculously suburban. Whoever lived here had a nuclear family and faith in a shitty system. Neil just looked at Andrew, wanting answers.

“I didn’t say goodbye,” Andrew said, still looking out at the house. “When I left for juvie at 14.”

“No,” Neil agreed. “You didn’t.”

“I didn’t think I’d go through with what I’d planned if I saw you.”

Neil just sat and let Andrew think. Gave him the room to talk.

“I torched the neighbour’s garage,” he said. “They sent me packing: they had no choice. Nicky’s parents, my aunt and uncle. They lived here.” He drummed his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel. “They were never able to sell the house. Do you know why?”

Of course Neil didn’t.

“I got out of juvie after 3 years, when I was on the precipice of 18. But, a week after I got back, Luther and Maria invited the three of us over for dinner. Drake Spear was waiting for me.”

Neil had only been told about the Spears in passing, when Andrew mentioned the only motherly figure he’d ever had. He’d spent six months in that home, but Aaron had found him and yanked him over to South Carolina. Before shit had truly hit the fan, Neil supposed.

“The reason I got myself locked up in the first place,” Andrew scoffed, still drumming his fingers. “So that he wouldn’t follow through and travel across the country, just to get Aaron and I together. A matched set.”

It took a while for him to continue.

“Aaron whacked his skull in with an umbrella. I took the blame, but charges were dropped. By Cass. I was made to do community service for 18 months instead.”

“Repayment for playing blind,” Neil mumbled.

Andrew had the audacity to look shocked that Neil had figured that out. It was like he didn’t know Neil at all. It had always been his best skill: reading people.

“Andrew,” Neil sat up, thinking of the condoms and lube in the back seat. “How—after all that, how can you possibly tolerate this? Us?”

Something flashed in his gaze. “There is no ‘ _this’.”_

“Still,” Neil insisted. He wasn’t letting Andrew sidestep this.

Andrew shut his eyes momentarily. His hands fell to his lap.

“My boundaries,” he said, eventually.

“Huh?”

Andrew opened his eyes again, looking straight ahead with a clarity that Neil could only dream to possess. “You respect them.”

The _you always have_ went unspoken. Neil’s throat was dry.

He really, really, _really_ liked Andrew Minyard.

_Shit._

*

Neil didn’t see Andrew all week. He had mid-terms coming up—they all did—and Andrew didn’t appear to be leaving his cocoon much regardless. Maybe he was still working through all that had transpired in Columbia. Was Neil the first person he’d told outside of those he was related to?

Things came to their apex on a gloomy Thursday evening. There had been a pervasive chill in the air all week as winter drew nearer, but tonight had unleashed a torrential storm like no other.

Neil found himself stood under a bus shelter on the edge of campus, glaring skywards. Curse his late classes: if he’d just left his lecture half an hour earlier, he wouldn’t be stuck here. His dormitory was on the other side of campus and he had no umbrella nor raincoat. The best he could manage was shoving a plastic bag he’d picked up whilst buying some spare fruit snacks and toothpaste to stash in his room, keeping his textbooks and notes somewhat dry.

Neil _liked_ the rain, too. It was the English in him. But this cold, relentless downpour wasn’t any fun. It was just fucking miserable.

He made sure that his books wouldn’t get trashed and bit his lip, taking the first brave step on towards the journey home.

As predicted, he was immediately soaked through to his skin.

So he ran.

He passed by teaching buildings and dining halls, the library and the campus quadrangle. He nearly slipped over whilst passing by another dormitory (that wasn’t his own) and decided to take a small breather in the alcove, tucked away and protected from the rain by a small balcony. It was a smoking area but the bench was empty. Neil dropped down his back-pack and shook out his hair with an aggravated sigh.

  
“Neil,” came a familiar voice.

Neil turned around and smiled. He couldn’t help it. “Hey.”

Andrew looked less than impressed. A cigarette was unlit between his fingers.

Neil hadn’t even noticed that the dorm he’d found shelter under was Andrew’s: the rain was coming down too hard for Neil to have properly distinguished it.

The man just huffed, spinning on his heel. When Neil didn’t move to follow, he glanced over his shoulder. “You coming?”

It was silent on the stairs up to Andrew’s room, positioned in the corner of the top floor. Neil had been by it a few times but never inside. He was sure that no one had been inside Andrew’s room. It was his safe space.

The door locked behind him as Andrew relieved the bag from Neil’s grasp and pinched the sopping-wet hoodie between his fingers.

“Off,” he said. “You’re dripping all over the carpet.”

Andrew’s room was tidy, more-so than Neil’s. Neil shed his clothes: it was strange outside of a sexual context. Andrew shoved him into a towel and gave him a bottle of soap and some dry clothes, sending him to the shower.

It felt good to warm himself up again, scrubbing off mud and gutter water and the errant leaf that’d found its way into Neil’s hair. Once his skin was pink, he dried himself off and peered at the clothes that Andrew had given him.

It was one of Andrew’s old shirts, a white thing that Neil had never seen him wear. Accompanying it was the tiny pair of women’s shorts that he’d bought on a whim in Columbia.

Neil’s cheeks burned as he pulled them on, deciding to wrap his towel around his waist for a little more coverage as he made his way back to Andrew’s room, grateful that no one was in the hallway.

He closed the door as quietly as he could behind him and turned around, only to watch Andrew yanking off the sweater. Neil’s clothes were already hung, drying, on the radiator. Andrew didn’t usually undress when they were together, aside from accidental shirt bunching. This was purposeful and timed. Neil’s mouth went dry at the expanse of Andrew’s shoulders, and he leaned against the door to steady himself.

Andrew crowded Neil up against the door with a kiss and heavy fingertips. The towel was discarded, Andrew’s sweats low on his hips. Neil was breathless. Utterly _breathless._

“Remember what I asked you about?” Andrew murmured into the corner of Neil’s jaw, appreciating the small shorts with the tips of his fingers.

Neil’s diaphragm contracted but he didn’t inhale. The strange hiccup made his voice sound hoarse. “Yeah?”

“Yes or no?”

Neil glanced over Andrew’s shoulder, to where the bedside table’s drawer was open, the lube and condoms blatantly obvious.

This was a terrible idea, but it didn’t make him want it any less.

So he nodded and grinned vocal consent into Andrew’s lips when he was picked up and hauled over to the bed.

Andrew paused to look at him, eyes shining with something that Neil couldn’t name. He had to know. _Surely_ he had to know. Know that Neil was an idiot who had let this spin out of control. Know that he was different, this was _different,_ and that Neil had no idea how to reign it in.

It was easy to forget, though, with Andrew’s lips on his skin.

So that’s what Neil did: closed his eyes, whispered Andrew’s name, and let fate wash over him.

*

Afterwards, Neil laid on his side, staring.

Andrew was asleep. Or, pretending to sleep. Neil wasn’t about to convince himself that Andrew was fine with Neil sleeping here, in this small bed, after they’d just had sex. He usually needed space. This was too much of a step forward for Neil to take blindly.

So he kept still. Still and quiet.

His heart was still racing.

It had been good. Awkward and stiff and confusing, but good. Neil had laughed. Andrew had _almost_ laughed. He’d let Neil’s fingers work the tension out of his shoulders and Neil’s voice soothe him, shooing off the looming shadows.

Now they were here, dealing with the aftermath. Andrew had pulled his pants back on but forgone a shirt. Neil was still naked as the day he was born, those stupid running shorts discarded on the floor. The covers were pulled up to their shoulders as rain continued to pelt against the window, lamplight creating a soft, golden glow.

Neil really needed to tell him.

It would be awful to lose this, especially when he now knew what it was like to be that close with Andrew. Physically and (one-sidedly) emotionally.

“Staring,” Andrew whispered.

“Andrew,” Neil whispered. “I think I—“

Andrew’s hand slipped out and covered Neil’s mouth before he could incriminate himself. “Morning,” he said. “Wait till morning.”

Neil made a strained noise at the back of his throat.

“C’mere.”

“You don’t want space?”

“I want nothing,” Andrew huffed, impatient as he pulled on Neil’s shoulder. “Come _here.”_

Neil rolled over to nestle his back against Andrew’s chest. A warm arm rested across his stomach as Andrew’s nose brushed over the back of Neil’s neck.

When Neil still didn’t relax, he leaned into Neil’s ear and murmured “Sleep.”

And, in spite of everything, it was enough to have Neil’s eyelids droop, yanking him backwards till he fell into a dreamless sleep.

*

When Neil awoke, he was alone.

His clothes were folded on Andrew’s chair, with a note in Andrew’s familiar scrawl resting on top.

_Went for coffee,_ he said. _Meet behind the Den._

Neil felt reluctance as he pulled on his clothes and hitched his bag over his shoulder, checking his keys and wallet. There was a condom wrapped and tissues in the bin, and a misplaced warmth in his stomach but lead in his chest.

The walk was too short: Andrew was already waiting outside the Den—a coffeeshop—with a half-empty iced monstrosity and a large black coffee for Neil, still hot and perfectly bland.

Neil murmured his thanks, taking a long sip. Andrew just hummed and swivelled on his heel, marching down the street.

They kept walking across campus. When Neil realised they were heading towards the woods, with the fire-pit and the pond, where Neil had so many good memories. Half of him wanted to yank Andrew to a stop, so he could have his heart broken somewhere that he didn’t have to come back to.

Andrew kept walking.

They stopped by the pond: there was a stream of morning sunlight illuminating the ripples of the water’s surface as a frog bounced from a new lily pad. The waterlily was in bloom. Neil had never seen flowers on the pond’s surface before.

“Neil,” Andrew said, staring at the flower.

“Wait.” Neil stepped closer. “Can I—Um. Can I just say something? First?”

Andrew slanted him a blank look. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

Andrew stilled.

“You told me there couldn’t be anything between us, that it’s only physical.” Neil said. “But it’s something more to me. It’s always been something more, and that means I overstepped a boundary.”

Andrew was quiet.

“Say something?” Neil mumbled.

“I heard you,” Andrew blurted out. “You and Kevin, talking. After the queer night.”

Neil froze.

“You’ve always said you didn’t really swing,” Andrew said. “Did you think I’d just neglect that, even though we were fucking?”

“But you said—“

“I don’t date,” Andrew confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Maybe Neil wasn’t getting his heart broken today. “You need to spell it out for me, Andrew. You’re the one who’s always calling me an idiot.”

“I—“ he grit his teeth. “I _want_ —you. To be with you.”

Neil offered his hand. Andrew slowly looped his fingers out around Neil’s wrist and pulled him close.

“I thought I was being obvious,” Andrew mumbled, forehead falling onto Neil’s shoulder. “You’re such an _idiot._ Apologising for your own sexuality. Fucking hell.”

Neil laughed. “How long have _you_ liked _me?”_

Andrew didn’t say anything. The smile dropped from Neil’s face. “This whole time?” Andrew’s fingers dug into Neil’s hips. “Oh. Longer than that. Wait—from when we were _kids?”_

“Shut up,” Andrew muttered.

Neil grinned. “We’re a mess,”

“ _You’re_ a mess,” Andrew insisted, still mumbling into Neil’s shirt. “Don’t drag me into your dumpster fires.”

“You just asked to be with me,” Neil teased. “You’re willingly signing up for this dumpster fire. No getting out of it now.”

“Fucking hell,” Andrew’s hand reached up to yank on Neil’s hair. “You’re so smug. You’d better make enduring your bullshit worth my time, Josten.”

Neil just smiled. “You know that I already am.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> this was the other idea i couldnt quite get out of my head
> 
> hope u liked it!!


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